


unto thee will i give

by ranichi17



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, 1987 EDSA Revolution, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Marcos Dictatorship, Philippine Martial Law, Philippine Setting, Vignette, philippines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranichi17/pseuds/ranichi17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were ordinary teenagers when the dictator declared Martial Law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unto thee will i give

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the anniversary of Martial Law to honour the martyred. Everything that was written here happened, and I mean _everything_. Only names were changed. Cosette's experiences is based on my high school history teacher.

**i.**

She was what they called _burgis_ , a member of the upper middle class.

He was from the middle class, too, but his family lived so simply that one would not know it right away.

 

She was a student of a convent school, the one beside the school founded by the Jesuits, along the road frequented by the rich lay about college students.

He was called an _Iskolar ng Bayan_ , a student of the people, studying in the nation’s new found science school, created to cater to the minds of young, bright citizens.

 

She was an only daughter, happily adopted by a protective father whose whole world revolved around her and thus begrudged nothing.

He had a multitude of brothers and sisters, and he grew up in a house filled with laughter.

 

She was a city girl through and through, never knowing any other home than that of the Old Capital.

He was from Cavite, that of the hot-blooded Tagalog race, and honour and bravery ran in his veins.

 

They were but ordinary teenagers when the dictator declared Martial Law.

 

 **ii.**  

He’s been at protests before. This was nothing new to him. Ever since that bastard of a president declared Martial Law, and even _before_ , Enjolras has always dragged the rest of them to protest the state of their nation. It helped that budget cuts to their school already affected his monthly stipends.

His parents tried to persuade him not to go to riots, but what can he do? Even peaceful demonstrations turn into riots once Enjolras opens his mouth to speak. He’s just too good at stirring the masses that when the police start to interfere, it starts to get violent. It happens too often that they’ve learned to prepare for every emergency that could happen.

But not like this. No, it never degenerated into this kind of violence before. They were teenagers, barely out of high school. Policemen should know better than to throw teargas and pillboxes at them.

“Courf, what are you doing? Stand back!” He could hear Ferre shout at him from a safe distance.

Courfeyrac snapped out of his reverie and shouted back. “On it!”

But then he hears Musichetta screams, and then time stops for him.

It’s Joly. Joly’s been hit. No, no, _no_. This can’t be happening. No, they were children, the police shouldn’t be doing this to them.

Bossuet barrels past the others behind the fence, past him, still standing in the crossfire, and grabs Musichetta, who was too close to the fallen Joly, that it could have been her that got hit by the pillbox. Bahorel follows him closely, and it is he who carries Joly to the safety of the fence.

When Bahorel joins them, the damage is finally seen. The pillbox hit Joly on the side of his head, and exploded half his face.

A heartbeat, and then their world spirals out of control. Bossuet slumps to the ground, hugging Musichetta in wordless grief. Grantaire and Prouvaire has to restrain Bahorel and keep him from surging back out into the crossfire. Feuilly is muttering half-uttered curses heaped at the police. Combeferre and Enjolras stand close to him and squeeze each of his hands.

It’s not Joly, it couldn’t be. _No_. He refuses to believe it. Joly was supposed to graduate this year. He was supposed to go to medical school. This couldn’t be happening.

They were children. They weren’t even calling for the president to go down. They were only complaining about the budget cut that threatened to close the school.

Courfeyrac doesn’t notice his tears until Combeferre wipes it away, and hoarsely whispers “Let’s go home.” 

 

Shit. Papa is going to kill me. I shouldn’t have come today.

Cosette hides in one of the cubicles of a nearby restroom, anxious of being found by the police. The protest was a disaster, with the public school students taunting them with the hateful word, yelling at them to leave. As if all convent school girls were brought up sheltered and in relative comfort.

She hears an explosion, and shudders. The police don’t know when not to use force anymore. A second later, and she hears a scream. Fuck, did someone get hit?

She hears the restroom door squeak open, and she clamps both of her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

Cosette breathes a sigh of relief when she hears the voice. It sounded like it came from someone no older than she was, and she peeks out.

It’s a student from that public school. She looks scared, and her uniform, that one whose skirt looks like a tablecloth, is caked with blood and gunpowder. Cosette wonders if this girl would ever get home, not when the rumours are spreading about enforced disappearances.

It’s when Cosette remembers that the police only ever round up public school students. _They_ were the ones with the dissident reputation. The police tend to forget that some demonstrations were actually started by private school students.

Cosette also remembers that she changed into casual clothing before she went to the protest.

She gets an idea, which she hopes would work.

“Quick! Change into my uniform!” She tells the startled girl, who obviously did not expect to be helped by a snooty bourgeois girl.

A minute later, the girl emerges from the cubicle. Cosette is surprised that her uniform fits the other girl, so sure was she that the girl was not really her size.

The girl thanks her again and again, before dashing out again, probably to rejoin her friends. Cosette grins in response.

It’s when she remembers that she forgot to ask for the girl’s name.

 

**iii.**

There is exactly one empty chair at their usual table in the Musain. Even shy, new Marius, who became part of their group a year after the incident, did not dare to occupy the empty chair, instead choosing to drag another chair to sit in.

Bossuet occasionally cracks a joke, glancing at the empty chair, half-expecting Joly to guffaw with him. He never leaves Musichetta’s side now. Musichetta remains passive.

But they are not here to grieve. They are here to celebrate the life of a friend cut down in his prime.

 

It is almost curfew when they leave the Musain, and he and Marius walk back to the dormitory where they shared a room.

He did not expect the police to catch up to them on their way back.

 

The whole night was spent in Crame. Every half-hour, he told the police he had to go to the loo, and there, he cut parts of the pamphlets in his possession, ripping them to pieces and flushing them down the toilet. He must not be caught with them. If it happens, even Marius will be in trouble. Or worse.

At daybreak, the police release them, unable to find any evidence against them. Courfeyrac breathes a sigh of relief, and falls asleep on the bed the minute they get back to the dormitory.

 

Cosette avoids talking to her Papa now. He can’t know she’s already involved in protests. All her papa knows is that she’s a writer for the college paper.

She doesn’t see her papa’s worried face whenever she hurriedly leaves the dining table.

She locks her door and begins to write another pamphlet.

 

**iv.**

It was at a protest in front of Vinzons that the public school boy and the convent school girl finally meet.

She was giving out pamphlets, and he was at his usual place beside Enjolras.

When someone told them to disperse, they bumped into each other.

It was love at first sight.

 

It was a long courtship, and it was awkward.

They eat lunch together every day, so much that his friends were already beginning to feel jealous of the girl who bewitched their Centre.

They laugh at his horrible puns over _isaw_ , declaring that he'll name his firstborn daughter Marsha Lou, and he can’t help but notice how her eyes gleam every time.

They discuss politics while he walks her to the jeepney stop, where she rides back to her house.

A semester later, he finally becomes her beau.

 

**v.**

They return to school hand-in-hand for their sophomore year in UP. The political mood had not changed. On the contrary, it worsened. The police were picking up even their professors, and once they were in custody, they disappeared.

When they arrived at the meeting in Vinzons, there were many new faces, and a lack of some familiar ones.

Bahorel was conspicuously missing.

“Where’s Bahorel?” he asked. Bahorel might skip lectures, but never a meeting.

“He went underground,” Prouvaire replied, and that was it.

 

**vi.**

In June, he went back home, presumably to visit his family, but there was another reason for it. His name was on the watch list, even if Enjolras’ family did all they could to keep him and the others out of it. They would come for him any day now.

When it was time to say goodbye, his youngest brother refused to come out of his room.

“Nate, please come out. _Kuya_ has to leave for school now,” he cajoled.

“No! If you leave, I won’t see you again.”

“Please, Nate.”

The door creaked open, and his brother peeked out, eyes rimmed red from crying.

Courfeyrac hushed him and wiped away the boy’s tears before pulling his brother into a tight hug.

“Nate, don’t cry. I’ll come back. Promise. Take care of _Nanay_ while I’m gone, okay?”

The boy nodded and returned the hug.

 

He had to stop himself from crying while on the bus. All he could do was hug the guitar his father gave him on his birthday.

He didn’t know if he’ll ever see his family again.

 

Cosette was typing an article for the Collegian when she heard a knock on her window. It could only be Courfeyrac.

“Courf, you idiot! What are you doing here? It’s almost curfew!”

Courfeyrac grinned and held out his hand. “The police will get me either way. Are you coming with me?”

Cosette smiled back and made her choice.

 

**vii.**

They got married under the rites of the group, and it was enough for both of them.

They went to the mountains, and lived with the people in the barrios. They were a nice, peaceful community, and whenever the military comes by, the people made sure to hide them.

There were close calls, and tragedies, too. The little, old man who took them in was tortured and killed by the military. Until the end, he never sold them out.

Courfeyrac sometimes joined the men to go down and find news. Cosette reprimanded him for it, and teased him that she won’t cry when he doesn’t return.

One day, he didn’t, and Cosette broke that promise.

The women took her in, and told her she must pray for him.

She never stopped doing so.

 

**viii.**

News flowed to her, still, and she anxiously waited for the ripe time.

In ’81, nine years after it was declared, Martial Law was formally lifted in preparation for the Pope’s visit, but the injustices went on.

In ’83, Aquino returned from his exile in the States, but was shot on the head as he disembarked from the plane, his blood staining the cemented tarmac.

In ’86, Marcos won in a snap election, beating out Aquino’s widow by a landslide. All opposition members walked out of Parliament in protest, and the whole country shouted support.

_Tama na! Sobra na! Palitan na!_

 

She went down from the mountains, riding incognito in a bus until she arrived in the capital, and there she joined the protesters. Rich and poor, nuns and soldiers, everyone linked hands. It was a peaceful protest that finally toppled the despot.

 

**ix.**

She goes back to school to continue her studies. It was what he would have wanted.

There, she sees Marius again, and it was the first time in years that she cried for Courfeyrac again.

 

For months, she and Marius bond over what they have lost. They laugh as they recall Courfeyrac’s antics.

She fell for him, and she knows that Courfeyrac would be happy for her.

 

**x.**

Years later, she teaches in the same school where Courfeyrac studied. On the 40th anniversary of Proclamation No. 1081, the school hosts a story-telling session, to honour the martyrs of liberty.

Her class looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to start.

She takes a deep breath.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a loose translation of a line from the patriotic song "Pilipinas kong Mahal."  
>  _Burgis_ literally means the bourgeoisie.  
>  A pillbox is similar to a Molotov cocktail.  
>  _Crame_ , or Camp Crame, is a police camp, infamous for the innumerable deaths and tortures that occurred there during the Martial Law Era.  
>  _Isaw_ is chicken intestine, a popular street food in UP.  
>  _Kuya_ means older brother.  
>  _Nanay_ means mother.  
>  _Tama na! Sobra na! Palitan na!_ lit. Enough! Too much is too much! Replace!  
>  Proclamation No. 1081 is the executive law that declared Martial Law.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I also have a tumblr right [here](http://ranichi17.tumblr.com/).


End file.
